


Me Without You

by orphan_account



Category: All Time Low (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Morning Sex, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 21:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17067434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jack is too lonely to turn Alex down.





	Me Without You

The night was still young, the bright lights of Baltimore engulfing the people hastily crossing the road, the city's nightlife now more prominent than ever. That's when Alex spotted Jack. At the roots, he was still that smooth, syrupy brunette who could never shoulder a loss at his favorite video game. On the other hand, the tips were like the threads of gold, the promise of something new and compelling. The crosswalk light illuminated it in a way to make it seem a cherry red shade, right before shifting to emerald green, opposite on the spectrum of colors.

Alex walked up to Jack, nudging at his side. "Long time no see."

To say that Jack's reaction was priceless would be an understatement. The corners of his lips curled into a gentle smile, a mist-sweetened blush sitting on his visage. "...Alex." His voice was small, he'd always loved the taste of that name on his lips. "Hey."

 

* * *

 

In not more than an hour, they ended up at a local pub. The place was all incandescent lights and consolation in throat-burning alcohol, yet the single most meaningful thing in Jack's eyes was Alex.

Alex was all scratchy stubble and ripped denim. How he managed to depict such fleeting fondness remained a mystery to Jack, who had finished downing his third drink of gin and tonic.

"You know," Alex began. "I missed you."

Intermission. It was silent, save for the jazzy ground bass blended with Jack's heartbeat. That signature crooked grin crept up on his lips, teeth barely showing. He melted, much like Icarus' wax wings, feathers falling with the gust. Alex was his sun; the everlasting heat, warmth, and comfort.

It was all too real when Alex leaned in, brushing his soft lips against Jack's.

 

* * *

 

The following morning, Jack woke up in a familiar bedroom, feeling a comfortable, warm weight push him into the soft mattress. Alex. The room was still dark, rays of moted dustlight filtering in through the blinds and framing Alex's bare back, forming a halo of light. The curtains swayed with the breeze passing through the room, the window just a crack open.

Carefully, Jack placed his hands on Alex's lower back, massaging his back dimples with his fingertips. He didn't want to get up yet. Not now - maybe five more minutes. With an undeniably smug smirk on his face, he focused on the feeling of Alex's chest heaving in sync with his own, his breathing steady and calm.

And that's when it hit him. This wasn't a one-night stand, at least not a regular one. As much as he despised to admit it, Jack knew what a one-night stand was from years of personal experience. The usual scenario was that he woke up at an ungodly hour to avoid contact with the person from the previous night. It was for the best, he mused. In contrast, he was now stroking Alex's back soothingly with one hand, while reaching over to the nightstand for his phone with the other. 10:04 AM. It was already midmorning.

He put his phone back down and unknowingly swept something off the short bedside table. It made a barely audible clink sound, hitting the wooden floor with a thump. Jack's ears loathed that sound.

The one-night stand routine would follow up with Jack rummaging around the place for his underwear that got discarded somewhere between the front door and the bedroom, hormonal haste getting the best of him. This time, both him and Alex were in their briefs, hip bones interlocked. Too domestic for his tastes, almost.

Besides, he didn't feel like getting up. No need for clothes when you're this cozy; legs molded together under the covers. Maybe this is what being touch-starved meant, Jack pondered. The pure crave for something as simple as an intimate touch.

He punctuated the sentence with a defeated sigh.

The scent of wine lingering in the air added onto the nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach, he heeded. His head felt like a vase that was a tender touch away from shattering, the contents spilling everywhere. Jack was the self-proclaimed connoisseur of hangovers.

Alex groaned in the back of his throat and Jack felt those disheveled, tangled locks brush against his chest. Alex slowly, but reluctantly blinked his eyes open, looking up. The first thing he laid his eyes upon was Jack. They didn't say anything for a long moment.

Jack's gaze was unfocused, a misty undertone to the otherwise lively brown eyes as he looked down at Alex, taking in his features. Alex returned the gesture. He didn't complain about Jack's firm hand on his back, nor Jack's hot body pressed up against his own. He relished it.

"Hey." Alex's voice was a pitch deeper than normal, but not at all unpleasant. It was the sound of angelic harmony to Jack's ears, poetic honesty in his tone.

Alex rubbed his eyes, an endearing tendency in Jack's eyes.

"G'morning." Jack's voice was rugged, a certain roughness to it. A reminder, for both of them.

The next thing he noticed, Alex's head was snug in the crook of his neck, nose lightly prodding at his Adam's apple. Alex was breathing gingerly, pressing his chapped lips casually against the inviting skin on display. It ended up sending a shiver down Jack's spine, his toes curling in the slightest. He tightened his grip on Alex's waist, thumbs perching on his delicate V-line.

Jack smelled like sex and aftershave, Alex noted.

"Would be nice waking up like this every day," Alex mumbled into Jack's collarbones, peppering the surface with kisses.

"Alex," Jack pleaded, whilst the other boy's movements faltered with a whimper. Jack let out a displeased sigh. "I don't know." He paused, palpable concern in his words. "I don't think we should be doing this right now." Despite what he was saying, his hands were still resting on Alex's waist, not letting go.

"But you're still here." Came the hopeful reply, nearly instantly. It had a distinctly muffled, somnolent tone to it.

"I know." Jack's long fingers trailed along Alex's ribcage, a tickling sensation washing over the boy, who let out a shy giggle. "Trust me, I know." He cupped Alex's jaw with both hands. "And I'm so fucking sorry for what I'm about to do." He tilted his head to the right, leaned in, and smoothed his lips over Alex's.

Jack cautiously licked Alex's bottom lip, and with a content gasp from Alex, he slipped his tongue inside. Alex's mouth was warm, wet and hot. Their tongues danced together to a slow, melodic rhythm, with Jack in the lead. Sleek and smooth movements, tongues greeting palates and teeth clanking together - it was everything he wanted and more.

Alex's hands traveled down Jack's sides, tenderly gliding along his skinny figure. His protruding love handles captured his attention, and he squeezed them lightly, earning a stifled moan from Jack. "Alex," Jack mumbled into the open-mouthed kiss. "Fuck, Alex." He found himself rutting up, shamelessly frotting, the soft fabric pressing against them in just the right ways. Their hips were moving together, grinding, and seeking more friction. Alex mewled into Jack's mouth from the pleasure.

And that's when they pulled back, both out of breath. They were panting, gazes fixated on their own reflections in the other's eyes.

Jack looked absolutely blown out. His kiss-stained lips were entreating to be abused with a flurry of kisses. He licked his lips without breaking eye contact.

"Jack," Alex began, voice breathless and hoarse, eyes gleaming with something unknown, yet strangely familiar. Jack bit his lip enticingly and gestured for Alex to go on. "I want you." His hand wandered down between them, clumsy, drowsy, but overall teasing movements steadily trailing behind his fingertips. "Wanna feel you, Jack." Those nimble fingers traced the outline of Jack's morning wood, boxers damp where the tip was pressing uncomfortably against it. Alex reduced his voice to a small whisper. "Make me yours, Jack." He was now breathing against Jack's neck again, whose skin was a midtone complexion, dark and tempting.

"A-Alex, I - " Jack's breath hitched in his throat.

That foolish 'I love you' could wait.

Alex licked his ear, a shiver running down until the small of his back. This has to stop, Jack figured. In the same breath, Alex lowered his head, biting along Jack's jawline, to which he could only respond with scraping his nails down Alex's back. It tickled, earning a wholehearted laugh from Alex.

Jack was so, so indiscreetly in love with Alex, that it was borderline ludicrous.

As he dug his fingernails deeper into the skin, he replaced the faded scratches that sheltered the curve of Alex's back. The burning streaks were divine in their own wretched ways.

Jack was breathing irregularly, with occasional low grunts of pleasure. Alex crawled down his body, unintentionally scrunching up the duvet at their feet. He planted featherlight kisses alongside Jack's happy trail until he reached the waistband of his boxers that were sitting just below his hip line - the tight material accentuating his curves. Alex hooked his fingers under the hem and pulled downwards. His mouth watered at the sight. He leisurely wrapped his calloused fingers around the base, leaned in, and kissed the head of Jack's cock. His lips were dry, the texture kindling this intense feeling of _eros_ in Jack.

Alex let his saliva dribble from his mouth, dragging his tongue down the left side. He curved his tongue and pressed it flush against the underside. A mischievous flick over the slit and Jack was whining like a cur in the jarring cold. Alex circled his tongue over the underside of the head, right where it met the shaft. Jack lit up with pleasure. "Alex, please," he urged. "More."

Jack was very vocal during sex, and Alex loved it - loved how a simple touch or movement made him shiver and shake with pleasure, not to mention how responsive he was. He never missed a beat on praising Alex, purring sweet nothings in his ear or touching him back. So, naturally, Alex soon complied to the request, taking the head into his mouth and sucking lightly. He swirled his tongue around the head, obscene sounds filling the air, enveloping them completely. Jack brought his trembling hand down to grip Alex's hair, tugging at a handful of strands. Alex moaned around his cock, eagerly pumping at a steady pace.

"Fuck, you're so good, 'lex." Jack tried to thrust up into Alex's mouth, wanting to go deeper, harder, faster. The tip hit the back of Alex's throat, making him audibly gag on Jack's cock. It caused the latter to twitch and leak pre-cum inside of his mouth. "H-Holy shit, you're tight as fuck -" Jack continued effortlessly sliding down Alex's tight throat.

Oral sex was always dirty and messy when it came to Alex. His gag reflex was average at best, so a lengthier cock made him drool and gag uncontrollably. It was immensely attractive in Jack's eyes. He loved it when a mix of Alex's saliva and his own pre-cum would drip down his cock, or when he could feel his cum leaking from his lips following his climax.

What was even more fascinating, was that Alex didn't shy away from slipping a finger or two inside Jack. With his free hand, he gathered a portion of his own spit, lathering his middle finger in it generously. He massaged the ring of muscles in a circular motion, smearing the wetness - a silent plea for Jack to give in and relax. He pushed the tip of his supple finger inside experimentally. The spittle acted like thick lube, alleviating some of the soreness.

A soft porn-ish, muted whine escaped Jack's lips. He knew he was close, letting Alex know by a well-timed hair pull and a deep moan. Alex gracefully twisted his wrist and tugged on Jack's cock, the overwhelming stimulation pushing him over the edge.

Alex then pulled back, exact and slow, earning a contented squeal from Jack. He felt individual beads of sweat trickle down his back, sweating. He was gasping for air, a thrilling excitement running down his spine.

Sex with Alex was mind-blowing, but he knew that already. He wanted to capture the moment, wanted to make it his, and his only.

Jack propped himself up on his elbows, taking a better look at Alex. How selfish, he thought. Tiny droplets of cum glistened on Alex's eyelashes and lips - nothing a thorough facewash or some steamy shower sex wouldn't solve.

Alex let his toned arms drape around Jack's torso, embracing him in a tight hug. Among their stiff bodies and tense muscles, were two hearts beating as one.

Being this personal with Alex meant one thing: endless daydreaming to come; contorting them in a way that they seem oddly realistic. The retort was a harsh one - Alex was nothing personal.

To Jack, Alex was always brownish in color; a synesthetic sensation. He was more umber when he was moping, and he was tawny when he was thrilled. He was the bold and fragrant cinnamon when his bluster drowned out his thoughts. Alex was that brown, hand-carved acoustic guitar that his mom got him for Christmas that one time, neatly placed in the corner of his room, collecting dust and waiting to be strummed - waiting for Jack's fingers to play him like no one else before.

That same brown was Jack's comfort color. People tend to lean towards labeling brown as a boring and uninteresting color. Alex had outstanding brown eyes, so obviously, Jack disagreed. Those brown eyes held so much love in them that he let himself be immersed in happiness for the first time in months.

Jack could feel that warm brown blur get farther and farther, barely out of his reach. His hands were aimlessly aching for the heat that he had lost, skin prickling with an itching feeling. He absentmindedly crumpled the white sheets under him, knuckles turning a similar shade.

He looked up, observing the way sunlight shimmered on Alex's skin, his back turned to Jack. How those naked thighs were begging to be touched and bitten. How every inch of his body was part of a canvas, one that _needed_ to be painted with the palette of Jack's marks.

Jack invariably found his digressing thoughts drift back to Alex. He wanted Alex in the most refined sense of the word. Despite thinking about falling asleep next to some stranger with this feeling of unexplainable distaste, he desired Alex. Desired his body, right next to his. It was a self-seeking thought that manifested in Jack: wanting to be the reason for Alex's happiness. Wanting to hear his laughter every waking hour of the day. Jack shook his head with a wistful smirk on his lips, offhandedly pushing away any and all signs of attraction.

"What would you like for breakfast?" asked Alex, running a hand through his hair.

Jack blinked twice. "Brunch." He corrected. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he beamed with adoration in his eyes.

Alex hummed. He couldn't help but crack a smile, the hoarse undertone evoking this strangely pleasant feeling swerving in his stomach.

That's all him, he presumed. With his legs moving at a swift clip, he stepped closer to Jack, holding his jaw with both hands. Alex marveled at how delightful his stubble felt underneath his fingertips. "So, brunch it is. What d'ya want?"

Jack stared right at him, manoeuvering his glorious puppy dog eyes just so. "Pancakes? The buttermilk ones!"

Alex chuckled, the sound echoing in the otherwise empty apartment. "Sure thing."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading?


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